


Moon, Muck, and Might

by ShinysMindPalace



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Domestic, F/F, F/M, International intrigue, Multi, Threesome - F/F/F, Threesome - F/F/M, Throuple, Trans Argonians, Werewolf, assassinations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:13:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25119700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShinysMindPalace/pseuds/ShinysMindPalace
Summary: Credit goes to Baeowulf for helping me refine the concept of this fic and encouraging me to post this.Hear ye, hear ye! Excessive amounts of political intrigue are to follow, alongside romantic strife, the uncertainty of being someone important, and most importantly, babies. Turn back all ye who enter who cannot stand the saccharine sweetness of pet names, nor withstand the heartbreak of testing the waters of love, and pray to what gods you hold dear as our daring protagonists risk life and limb for a better life for not just themselves, but their futures, too.Ye have been warn'ed.
Relationships: Derkeethus/Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Khajiit Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Lydia
Kudos: 1





	Moon, Muck, and Might

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Baeowulf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baeowulf/gifts).



The rafters of Breezehome ache and groan as the midwinter wind plies the timbers for weakness, as if merely searching for an excuse to enter the pocket of warmth perched in the Wind District of Whiterun and invite the coming winter snowstorm to sit by the fire with Derkeethus and Lydia. While certainly not the most likely pair, the two of them have something in common as the fire crackles, the winds finally dying down when boredom claims them, leaving Breezehome to stand another day, to facilitate another awkward dialog.

You see, both of them were waiting on the first floor next to the hearth, wondering what on Lorkhan a Thane of Whiterun could be up to so suddenly after Lo'rahj disappeared last week. Derkeethus had explained that he'd simply lost sight of the Circle Companion on the road southeast of Falkreath's capitol, and then she just disappeared, mottled coat with enigmatic Voice and all. When Derkeethus returned to Whiterun, he had hoped to catch her scurrying home, but not even the guard had seen her, despite his repeated questions. So, when he settled into the home he never quite felt comfortable living in to wait until she returned, Lo'rahj's housecarl jumped at the opportunity to talk to someone after so long with her Thane on the road. 

Derkeethus had made them dinner by the time he ran out of excuses not to answer her questions, but by then, the two of them had reached an unspoken, awkward truce, the two letting the howl of the wind dominate their conversation while they ate. With both food and wind now gone, Lydia gives Derkeethus one last sidelong look. 

"So, you were saying before about Falkreath?" The housecarl probes, sitting back in the low-backed chair by the hearth, letting her feet warm by the fire as her armor lies on the floor, warming up before Lydia would begin her regular patrols of the house. Derkeethus anxiously adjusts the fit of his helmet, wondering just how to betray his wife in a way that let him see her again. 

"I wasn't saying anything important. One minute there, next minute gone. She's like a shadow in the night when she cares to disappear." Derkeethus explains, hoping he has an equally good explanation for her when they become reunited. "I just wish I knew where she went… we were in the midst of construction on the property the Jarl granted us, before then. I was looking forward to shaping our lives together…" 

Lydia is silent for a long moment, as though contemplating her answer carefully. But like any Nord worth her salt, Lydia shrugs, grabbing her warmed steel boots and beginning the process of pulling her armor on again over her clothes. 

"Perhaps she is doing something important. She is Dragonborn, after all, we all heard the summons from Whiterun, we can only imagine what responsibility that might hold." Lydia offers sagaciously, tightening the straps on her boots before going for the next few pieces, assembling her graves. 

"I'm sure it must be something important, or she would have at least left me an explanation." Derkeethus decides, finally looking back to Lydia as his crumbs from dinner fail to hold his attention. "Why did you ask?" 

Lydia grins to herself as she presses her flame-warmed graves against her pants, tying them on where the creases in her clothes have been worn into proper divots from how often Lydia is suited up. "It just seems only fair to me that I know a bit more about the Thane I serve. I've never spent a day on the road with her, only carrying her seemingly-endless shopping once when we first met. But you two seem practically inseparable, at least, you did." 

Derkeethus, sufficiently lured by Lydia, leans his head back into his fingers, doing the job of a high backed chair without the chair there. "She's wild and yet perfectly at home in the city. Always talking, always convincing people to her side, always making sure to come out on top. In honesty, that scares me more than what she does under the fullest moons…" 

Lydia halts in her little armor ritual, surprise hidden by long hair and pride. "She scares you? Aren't you two wed?" 

Derkeethus snorts, nodding to confirm it as his wedding band hangs heavily from his first finger. "And I don't regret it one bit, but… I think everyone should be afraid of a silver-tongued Khajiit who could kill you just because she was hungry." Smiling fondly, Derkeethus closes his eyes, while Lydia stands to finish pulling on her armored pants. "You know, once, the two of us were having dinner. Dawnstar was still a day away, and we decided to rest. But a blizzard much like tonight hit, forcing us into our tent together… when she noticed my shivering, she took some robes she'd been intent on hawking to the nearest trader, and stuffed the open ends of our tent shut with cloth and rocks. It took me until her armor came off to figure out her plan - she decided to transform, to warm me all night with her body, just to ensure I wouldn't be too uncomfortable." 

Lydia keeps her eyes on her ritual, buckling her chest plate on. "She's actually a werewolf?" 

"Oh yes, and not a private one either." Derkeethus enthuses, even as Lydia finds her face heating up. "The middle of the woods is fine, so long as she isn't connected to her rampage by the guards. It's terrifying, watching her work, and I'll be the first to admit that when she roars, I have to run, but…" The Argonian man opens his eyes, a wistful look on his face. "When she chooses to go hungry for you, to hold you all night long, you get a much deeper appreciation for the moon-children and all their sleepless nights." 

Lydia, with her pauldrons now in place, finally turns to face Derkeethus again as the wind starts to pick up, howling against the buildings. "An appreciation?" 

Derkeethus grins wide, as a key is removed from a pocket by tired claws outside the shack. "Ah, I suppose you wouldn't know. Werewolves are gifted with more than just the dual nature of hunter and beast. She tempts me to find a way to Black Marsh in the hopes of begging the Hist to bring us eggs for all the trouble she goes through for me." 

Lydia whirls as the door's latch comes undone, drawing her weapon on instinct as the wooden door swings in, revealing a familiar figure in the doorway, the translucent glass helm on her head framing Lo'rahj's tired eyes with a sense of regality at odds with the words out of her mouth as she steps in the door. 

"Oh my moon's eye, Derkeethus, it's like you've forgotten I've got a perfectly capable cunt, too." 

Derkeethus feels his face burn with embarrassment as Lydia stands frozen in place, the short, mottled brown and black Khajiiti werewolf stepping in and letting the wind shut the door behind her, licking some blood from her cheek. Capricious red eyes meet Lydia's, and Khajiit claws meet fearlessly with Lydia's wrist to lower her weapon, Lo'rahj purring, 

"I'm sure you'd be willing to help us raise them, right, dear housecarl?"

Safe to say, Lydia was not told this was part of her duties. 


End file.
